


The Case of the Outwitted Detective

by tranimation



Category: Basil of Baker Street - All Media Types, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Gen, Irene Adler - Freeform, John H. Watson - Freeform, Oscar Wilde - Freeform, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 23:10:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16942491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tranimation/pseuds/tranimation
Summary: Sherringford Basil receives a visit from "'the' Woman" and matches wits with her yet again, not as an enemy, but as a client. Canonical (TGMD): Mystery: On-going. Rated K for cuteness.





	1. Setting Up the Board

**Author's Note:**

> This story, originally entitled as _OUTWITTED AGAIN?_ , is an adaptation of the episode of "The Adventure of the Second Generation" of the Old Time Radio program known as _THE NEW ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES_ , starring Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce, and was literarily transcribed by Ken Greenwald in _THE LOST ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES_. Despite my own _GREAT MOUSE DETECTIVE_ website following the dissolution of Geocities, I'm flattered that certain Basilians remember this story still with great fondness. Since improved and matured significantly as a writer over these years, this is a revised edition of the story, further expanded and detailed.
> 
> DEDICATION: To the "old" Basilian crowd, you know who you are, I remember you still, think of you still, and love you all the more that you remember me still.

To Sherringford Basil, she was always _the_ Woman. Before then, her public entitlements were many and varied — the Primadonna Teatru Wielki, la Seconda Donna della Scala, la Reine du Palais Garnier, la Princess de la Renaissance, the Actress, the Adventuress, the Professional Beauty, the Woman in the Little Black Dress, the Jersey Lily, the New Helen, the Gibson Girl, but rarely was the name of Mademoiselle Irene Relda spoken under any other name, under any other entitlement, by my friend than _the_ Woman. In his eyes, she eclipsed the whole of her sex. I can recall vividly our first encounter with the formidable woman those years ago. Her scheme to crumble the Kingdom of Bohemia, though foiled by Basil and I, was indeed ingenious and her escape even more so, with a blackmailing photograph, the root of the scandal, still in hand, leaving the best laid plans of the Great Mouse Detective beaten by a woman's wit. And yet, in spite of this, he held no grudge, no resentment, against her, but the greatest and gentlest of admiration for her bold and exceptional nature. Her name would reflect back thoughts and emotions that would remain his, and his alone.

It was on a drizzly day in March when these very thoughts re-surfaced again. Basil was laboring with chemical experiments, mumbling to himself, as he often did. A large, curved retort was boiling furiously over the bluish flame of a burner and distilled liquids of different colours and of different odours were condensing into measuring cups, as he dipped into his bottle or that, drawing out a few droplets of each with his glass pipette, and jostled a test-tube containing a solution with a jaunting eye, when a telegram arrived at our shared rooms of Lower 221B Baker Street.

"By my troth," his eyes twinkled and a grin flared widely across his face, as the detective began to paraphrase a Shakespearean quote with a clicking of his tongue, "it is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be always astounded by her."

"What is it, Basil?" I asked, lowering my paper, and walked towards him.

He laughed to himself and handed me the card merrily:

_MY DEAR MR. SHERRINGFORD BASIL:_

_I SHALL CALL UPON YOU THIS AFTERNOON AT FOUR ON A MATTER OF SOME IMPORTANCE. I AM CERTAIN YOU ARE AWARE OF OUR HISTORY TOGETHER AND I HAVE NO DESIRE TO IDLE OURSELVES WITH EMBITTERED TIMES, BUT HOPE WE CAN START ANEW BY EMBARKING ON A BRIDGE OF MUTUAL AGREEMENT UPON MATTERS OF BUSINESS; AND I REMAIN, DEAR MR. BASIL,_

_VERY TRULY YOURS,  
MLLE. IRENE RELDA._




"My word! Why is she coming to consult us? The absolute insolence, especially after all this time, eh, Basil?"

Silence.

"Basil?"

I heard the sound of his scurried foot-steps pass behind me. He passed affront of me the second time, with bundle of old newspapers in his arms, hiding them behind the desk, then grabbed a silver savour with a tea-china set, and scampered across the room. He shot open a door and tossed the entire set carelessly out with a deafening crash. As he slammed the door, our landlady gave out a harsh wailing.

"It's all right, Mrs. Judson, I shall recompense for the lost," he hollered and off he went again.

Never had I seen Basil so agitated — or was it excited? — over the impendence of a client!

After some minutes, he finally walked calmly out of his rooms, sweeping his hair back, wearing his smartest ascot. He then glanced over the study, making certain that everything was in order, and then to myself:

"Good heavens, Dawson! You're not wearing _that_ , are you? No, no, no, too late now!" he urged me away to answer the light knock at the door, with a hasty shooing of his hands. "Go answer the door and give her your full attention, for here she comes!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanation for the Woman's entitlements may be required: "Primadonna Teatru Wielki" (Polish, "The First Lady of Grand Theatre") is a reference to the original Sherlock Holmes story where she was the prima donna of the "Imperial Opera of Warsaw." In reality, there is no Imperial Theatre in Warsaw: The national theatre of Poland, which was part of the German Empire at the time, is the Grand Theatre (Teatr Wielki); the Imperial Theatre (now called the Bolshoi Theatre) is in Moscow. "Seconda Donna della Scala" (Italian, "The Second Lady of La Scala"), which is the Italy's world-famous national opera-house, where the original Irene Adler performed; therefore being "La Reine du Palais Garnier" (French, "Queen of Palais Garnier"), the national opera-house of France. "Princesse de la Renaissance" (French, "Princess of the Renaissance") refers to the Théâtre de la Renaissance, one of the top three Parisian theatre companies of the time that survived to present-day: The significance of the Théâtre de la Renaissance and the entitlement of "The New Helen" will be revealed in later chapters.
> 
> To associate a woman as an "adventuress" was considered better than "actress": While it was widely used during the Victorian/Edwardian era in ambiguous association with "courtesan," it was also a term for a woman of a "cleaner" reputation who had an independent lifestyle, career-oriented women, which was shocking at a time when women weren't allowed to own property, because they _were_ property. This was a time where women weren't allowed own their own house, their own bank account, keep their own children if divorced, nor earn their own income outside the realm of inheritance and/or marriage, let alone have a "career." One of these independent "careers" was the "professional beauty," a phenomena, a fad, that came about during the period: She needed not be rich, highly born, nor well-educated (provided she had sense enough to escape from committing any glaring missteps); all that was required of her was that her face should be approved by society as a great beauty and her future was assured. While they didn't receive any money (as that would be akin to prostitution), they would be invited to the grand dinners and society galas, hobnob with the elite and privileged, became models for painters and photographers, their faces illustrated on advertisements and stationary (not necessarily with their personal permission), their exploits recorded in every newspaper, whatever they wore became objects of fashion, etc. The quintessential "Queen of the Professional Beauties" was an actress/adventuress named Lillie Langtry, lover of Edward VII (and the eldest son of Queen Victoria of England), who was one of the real-life models (one of the primary models, at least) Sir Arthur Conan Doyle used for Irene Adler, and was nicknamed the "Jersey Lily" after her famous portrait by Sir John Everett Millais where she held a Jersey lily (Amaryllis belladonna), the flower of Jersey, a British island located off the coast of Normandy where both Langtry and Millais were born.
> 
> The personification of the "Gibson Girl" was the "New (American) Woman," according to illustrator Charles Dana Gibson: She was idealization of feminine beauty, yes, but also was a satire of the sociopolitical progression of women with her statuesque, youthful, and ephemeral looks, portrayed generally as independent, career-oriented and educated, sexually free or sexually dominant. Four top models for the Gibson Girl were Irene Langhorne, a Southern belle, political activist, and wife of the illustrator; her sister Nancy Astor, Viscountess Astor, a divorcée (scandalous for the time) and the first female Member of Parliament in the British House of Commons; Camille Clifford, Belgian-born actress and model noted for her (in)famous wasp-shaped corset; and Evelyn Nesbit ("The Girl in the Red Velvet Swing"), actress and model noted for her liaison with architect Stanford White. All four have been arguably associated to be "inspirations" for Conan Doyle's Irene Adler.
> 
> The actual Shakespearen quote is from _MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING_ : "It is no addition to her wit, nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her." Sherlock Holmes, whom was a great admirer of William Shakespeare and had quoted/misquoted/paraphrased the Bard several times, most famously "the game is afoot" from _HENRY V_. The only Shakespearean play Holmes has quoted twice is _TWELFTH NIGHT_ , which I always found interesting, as it dealt with an actress from a different shore who fools people by disguising herself as a man, which is Irene Adler in a nutshell.
> 
> "Setting Up the Board" is a chess term that speaks for itself, as the first step in preparing to play a game of chess is making sure the board is set correctly.


	2. Irregular Opening

I approached the door with trepidation and, as I turned the handle, my mind raced over what lay beyond the threshold. I gingerly opened it and saw the unfortunate sight of a middle-aged valet whom shivered from head to toe. His fluffy side-whiskers were plastered against his ruddy cheeks, his trousers wetly clung to his knobby knees, and his ill-fitted overcoat, his collar pulled up high to shield himself from the elements, was splattered with stains, holding a small piece of paper in his gloved hand.

Basil's eager grin fled to an annoyed grimace at the sight of the ribston-pippin of a mouse, but ran his words courteously: "Excuse us, but we mistook you for someone else. How may we be of service to you?"

"Sorry to disturb you, sirs," said the manservant with a feeble sniffle, "but my master instructed me to deliver his note. He said it was urgent and also instructed me to wait for a reply."

Basil took the note causally; but upon reading it, his expression suddenly turned cross.

"What confounded impudence!" cried he, crumbling the paper and pitching it fiercely into the fire-gate. "I have no reply for him!"

"But, sir, he said I _must_ have a reply from you."

"Tell your master that I will instruct a reply in due course."

"Very well, sir," replied the valet dourly who promptly left, tugging his collar of his uniform higher and tented it over his head.

Inquisitively, I dislodged the note from the iron prongs of the grate and read it:

_BASIL:_

_YOU'RE UNEMPLOYED. STOP PLAYING WITH THOSE FILTHY CHEMICALS. THAT STENCH OF YOURS CAN BE SMELT ALL THE WAY UP TO QUEER STREET. DO EVERYONE A FAVOUR AND MAKE YOURSELF USEFUL FOR ONCE! STRAIGHTEN UP AND GET A REAL JOB!_

_STEPHAN-GODDARD._




My brow furrowed with an angered questioning: "Who is this?"

"He is a retired manufacturer who lives just across," the detective snorted with a sneer. "He is not particularly well liked among the populace and for good reason. You might have seen him. He is the most severe man, certainly not a gentleman, with large, grizzled moustache and perpetual scowl, who trudges around the walkways like a hungry troll. He's a tyrant to all who've met him. It seems that Mr. Stephan-Goddard believes his immense wealth gives him right to domineer his neighbours. Greet him at your peril, Dawson."

"I fear that I already had the displeasure. There was a man fitting that description insulted Granada over a mere trifle. I was one of a few that came to his aid to remove the brute from his shop. Our poor barber was inconsolable for hours. I wouldn't be surprised if all the mice along Baker Street would leap at a chance to swing at him."

"Indeed, you have said a mention of this incident before. I know I shouldn't take it too close to heart, Doctor; however—."

"Excuse me, gentlemen?" came a voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Ribston-pippin" is a type of tri-coloured apple with skin of yellow, flushed orange, and streaked red. "Queer Street" is a British colloquialism that originated in the early 1800s for an imaginary place where persons in financial difficulty, or other such flighty and/or "shady" characters, are feigned to live; it was generally associated with Carey Street, where London's bankruptcy courts were located. (The phrase was coined long before the 1920s, before "queer" was first used as a synonym for homosexuality.)
> 
> Granada is a "nod" to the _SHERLOCK HOLMES_ TV series, starring Jeremy Brett, created by ITV Granada (formerly Granada Television) from 1984 and 1994. Throughout the series, there indicates a tight-knitted community within Baker Street and one place where Holmes and Watson seems to frequent the most often is the barbershop. Whenever the camera passes the salon or whenever we see inside the salon, I cannot help but smile, because this little barbershop is a slice of their everyday life that was never seen within the pages of the Sacred Writings. We see Holmes at the hairdresser in _Solitary Cyclist_ after a haircut (who vainly slicks his hair back afterward), we see Holmes wave to Watson (with shaving cream over his face) through the salon window his morning dressing-gown in _Six Napoleons_ , and Holmes sat at the salon (in yet another state of "undress," without his gloves and walking-stick) in order to ask his barber's advice over hair samples found at a crime scene in _Resident Patient_. Although the actor who plays the hairdresser is always different, he usually portrayed with a large, brown moustache, always has a perfectionist air about him, never seems to bat an eyelash at Holmes' otherwise "curious" activities, and there's the old saying that gentleman's barber is always his best friend. These detail, as minor and flippant as they are, portray the amount of intimacy and trust these two characters seem have with their nameless chirotonsor. Similar the character of Mrs. Hudson, he's treated as part of the background, much like a rug or a vase, yet he is a character privy to the frequent comings and goings of Holmes and Watson and, needless to say, I always felt he had stories to tell. I hope to one day pull "our good barber" out from the background to the foreground in an adventure of his own, as I did with Mrs. Judson in my pastiche of [_THE LANDLADY AND THE POET_](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070937).
> 
> "Irregular opening" is a chess term with an unusual, or rare, first move from black. Typically, the first move is traditionally always white. (However, it's not historically known why white is always first. During the mid-to-late 19th-century, the practice of white moving first had not yet become standard: Either white or black could start the game.)


	3. Transposition

The both of us were startled at the presence of someone else in the room.

"Your door was open," said the cloaked figure, matter-of-factly, "so I did not see the need to knock, nor to stand out in the rain."

Shedding off the hood of her cape from her head and brushing the damp wisp of hair away from her eyes, there _she_ stood — tall, graceful, and queenly. She had entered so gently that we may never had heard her if it were not for the music of her voice. We were motionless, as if time had stood still for a moment, and she spoke again, as clear as a crystal bell:

"Am I interrupting? I believe I have an appointment."

"Miss Relda, welcome!" I fumbled, as I hurried to shut the door.

With a smile, she extended her hand to me in a pleasant greeting: "Dr. Dawson, I presume?" Then she turned to my friend and paused for a fleeting moment: "And Mr. Basil?"

The detective cleared his throat and accepted for the actress' hand, returning her greeting. "Mademoiselle Relda."

As their fingers curled and linked over and under the other's palms, the two adversaries stood silently, face to face, for what seemed like minutes. Neither a flinch, nor a blink, emitted from either of them. There was no denying the fact that she was a _lovely_ creature. While I had only had seen her from afar, all of London, all of Europe, in truth, had heard of beauty of _the_ Woman, but no description of her, no artistic etching, no colourless print, had prepared me for the subtle charm and the genteel exquisiteness of the face that nearly destroyed a monarchy.

"Your photograph does you much injustice."

Raising an arched eyebrow, the lady tilted her head at my friend's unusual compliment and gifted him a tiny smirk: "Flattery will get you everywhere, sir. I believe it was our mutual friend, Mr. Oscar Milde, whom has often told me that photography, in his experience, has the adverse effect of turning wine into water."

"Yes, that certainly sounds like him," the detective tapped a wistful finger on his chin. "Oscar has spoken of you before."

"He speaks of you, too, that I sometimes feel that I know you better than I do. In fact, it was he who suggested that consult you, so shall we turn to business? I do have several other appointments I must keep."

"Yes, of course," Basil smiled with a flippant shrug. "Pray, how may we be of service to you?"

I motioned to a cushioned armchair.

"Thank you, Doctor," she smiled, talking the harder wooden chair, "but I'll be quite happier here."

"I perceive you are staying at the Café Royal," Basil sat himself upon his favourite armchair with a somber smile, his fingertips pressed together in a steeple, and his eyes transfixed analytically upon her. "Did you enjoy your _foie gras terrine_ and _café au lait_ for luncheon to-day?"

She replied amusingly, "You noticed my receipt in the inner pocket of my cape — bravo — and, yes, it was delightful. And you, I see, have been out of practice for awhile — a pity, really, as you deserve much better — and you have recently tidied up before my calling." She glanced at dusty magnifying lens upon his desk and the mess of papers slid behind it. "How sweet of you, indeed. One would half expect that you were interested of my coming."

"A client always interests me, mademoiselle. Your wire did astonish me, admittedly."

"As well it should. Because," she sighed at length and rolled her eyes at her own words, "I apparently require your assistance. It's ironic, really."

Sherringford Basil was all but amused. "What is the deed?"

"Blackmail."

Basil scoffed a booming laugh.

"Yes, I thought that would amuse you," she retorted flatly yet continued. "My blackmailer had apparently obtained several letters written by a former acquaintance of mine by thievery a fortnight ago. He threatens to bring these very letters to the attention of my _marraine_ , my godmother, whom I am very fond of."

"And the contents of these letters?"

"Certainly not those written by a gentleman, you could say. He was a fool in lettering them in such vulgarity. My _marraine_ is in the most frail state; her heart is exceedingly weak. She desired to stay in England for her remaining days. Its contents, if exposed to her, would send her to shock and I cannot allow her to die in such an appalling manner."

"What is the amount he asks for his silence?"

"Five thousand pounds."

Basil whistled and clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "I take it this is beyond your purse?"

"No, I could pay it, but I simply refuse to. It's the principle of the thing. They are neither worth that amount, nor is this the first time he’s attempted such villainy towards others, and I refuse to be bullied by such a creature. If I am able to attain the letters without payment, I will. I am willing to commission you, Mr. Basil, for the sum of five thousand pounds to show that I am simply more trouble than I'm worth, to teach him a lesson, and have him think twice if he attempted this again on someone else. It's simple as that."

"I see. And whom is this blackmailer who causes you such distress?"

She rose, graceful and feminine, walking to her cape, which laid drying on the fire-gate, and handed a card to Basil taken from the pocket. "Mr. Stephan-Goddard."

He glanced at the card half-lidded before tucking it away. "Yes, we are acquainted with the name. Now," he came with a coy smile, "what _exactly_ do you want with me?"

She stared at the fire, her back affront us, brushing out the water-spots from her cape. "Is it not painfully obvious, Mr. Basil? I want you to get them back for me."

"How?"

She turned her head toward Basil, with a mischievous smile — yes, by heaven, did she smile — across her face, her eyes twinkled brightly, and answered simply:

"To _steal_ them, of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Café Royal, a five-star café-restaurant (and hotel, currently) located at Regent Street in London's Piccadilly, was "the place to see and be seen" in the 1890s, the epicentre of fashionable London, introducing for the first time in the British capital French gourmet cuisine. Welcoming famed patrons, from royalty and celebrity, to the creative and the notorious, one of its most famous frequenters was the Irish poet, playwright, writer, and personality Oscar Wilde (and, of course, Arthur Conan Doyle). The character of Oscar Milde, along with Irene Relda, is one of oldest OCs and, to this day, I'm surprised he amassed a fandom of his very own. (Honestly, I had no idea OCs could have "fangirls" at all!) _Foie gras terrine_ is forcemeat loaf of puréed goose or duck liver served at room temperature, and _café au lait_ is French coffee with milk. Both are, indeed, part of the Café Royal's menu.
> 
> How old is Basil? The same age as Sherlock Holmes, of course, much like Queen Moustoria's the same age as Queen Victoria. Starting with the Sacred Writings, two references help calculate how old Sherlock Holmes is. In _Boscombe Valley Mystery_ , he said he was "middle-aged" in 1889 and in _His Last Bow_ is more specific as Holmes said he was "sixty" in 1914. Simple arithmetic dates his birthdate circa 1854. Ironically, Oscar Wilde was also born in 1854. Also, I believe Sherlock Holmes attended Oxford as well. In _Gloria Scott_ , we get glimpses of Holmes' university days, it it never specifically said which university, but we do know that he became friends with Victor Trevor, Jr, the son of a Justice of the Peace and, in _Musgrave Ritual_ , we meet another friend of Holmes' university days, the young Reginald Musgrave, a son of a Member of Parliament and heir to one of the oldest noble families in England, whom lived in his own castle. With an upper-class gentleman and an aristocrat and Holmes himself a descendant of country squires, logically, Holmes went to one of the _old_ universities — Oxford or Cambridge? Evidence points mostly to Oxford. In _Gloria Scott_ , he talks about going "down to chapel" and the "quadrangle" which are all Oxfordian terms. In _Three Students_ , Holmes went to a famous university town of Cambridge and didn't know his way around the grounds at all. Also, Holmes seems to have been influenced by the Aesthetic Movement greatly, which explains why he became a detective, which isn't the traditional career move. Aesthetic Movement had originated in Oxford, which Oscar Wilde was one of the most famous disciples on both sides of the Atlantic. In fact, Holmes quotes their famous motto of the aesthetes, "art for art's sake" twice — once _Red Circle_ and another at _Retired Colourman_. And since both Holmes and Wilde were born in 1854, went to Oxford, and were both celebrities in their respectful colleges, making Basil and Milde friends made sense to me. In addition, several of the models that inspired Conan Doyle's Irene Adler, particularly Lillie Langtry, Sarah Bernhardt, Ellen Terry, etc, were real-life friends with Wilde; therefore, Basil and Relda having a mutual friendship with Milde shows that, if circumstances were different, they could have been friends rather than enemies, or perhaps more...
> 
> "Transposition," in chess, is arriving at a position using a different sequence of moves, or shifting the game on to a different opening track from that on which it started. Players sometimes use transpositions deliberately in order to avoid variations they dislike, lure opponents into unfamiliar or uncomfortable territory, or simply to worry opponents.


	4. Castling Queenside

Basil and I glanced at one another, equally shocked at the words of this audacious woman. The idea that she would associate Basil in the category of a common thief left me greatly offended.

"Surely, Miss Relda," I ventured, with a muss of my moustache, "how could you contemplate that we would commit burglary for just anyone?"

"No, not _commit_ , merely _perform_ ," she intervened mirthfully. "Besides, it is no more than retrieving one's property, Doctor."

"Nonetheless, a crime and a felony."

"A felony you gentlemen do rather well, I hear. Innocent until proven guilty, in accordance to the law? In a closed society, everyone is guilty of something; the only true crime is to get caught. In a world of thieves, the only sin is stupidity. Being expert criminologists, I suspect you will perform with precision and acumen."

"Calm yourself, Dawson," my friend raised his hand to me before I could interject my objection again. "Mademoiselle Relda is a most persistent and forthright woman, and her logic is sound. Paying off the blackmailer is not an option. I deduce that you assist in payment of your relation's medical care, mam'selle?" When she nodded in response, he thus continued: "Then she requires the best of care. No money shall be exchanged, Doctor, nor contracts composed. It would be foolish to involve the constabulary. Therefore, larceny is the only rational option."

"But think of the risks, Basil," I warned. "The police will make a pester over a simple burglary, particularly the papers. If you were caught, good name tainted and an honoured career ending in failure and public disgrace."

"Doctor, there's no need to be melodramatic," needled the actress. "You gentlemen are far too clever to be caught and the police are far too easy to illude."

"Do you speak from experience?" quipped the detective.

Her lips formed a subtle smile at him.

"It is fortunate for the community that I am not a criminal."

"So, you _are_ willing to take my case?"

There was a few seconds of silence.

"If I do this, Mademoiselle Relda," said Basil, firmly, "I must insist on something before I can pronounce upon your matter."

"So, the detective does have a price?" she asserted amusingly. "What is that, pray?"

"I want the photograph."

She scoffed ridiculously with a half-grimace and half-laugh: "Oh, still moaning over that, are we?"

"The photograph? Then I shall consider your case."

She shook her head defiantly. "Sir, I will speak frankly and, I assure you, what you ask is a simply not possible."

"You cannot, or you will not?"

"Both, I fear. _That_ photograph is my security and insurance against the King. If I were to part the photograph and, as such, you were to return it to the royal family, then what is to happen to my livelihood? And," she interrupted Basil with a raised finger before he could open his mouth to speak again, "if I were to give myself up to the authorities, what would that accomplish? I've done no wrongs in accordance, for I was never caught. Do you intend to ferret me all the way to Bohemia due an event that is no more than a tall-tale?"

My companion exhaled a lengthy defeatist's sigh: "In Bohemia, your treason against the crown would be assured by the testimony of the King. However, there is little existing evidence to support it, unless they want them in ashes, and His Majesty would go against you with that photograph in your possession."

"Then we are at an understanding. Either way, you yourself have a photograph of I mounted on your mantel-piece." She smirked at the iron-framed portrait of herself: "That photograph was meant for the King, Mr. Basil, and yet I was astounded to learn that you asked for it personally."

"A memorandum of the events, mademoiselle. Nevertheless, I have a right mind to refuse your case."

The singer smirked with a mischievous rise in her arched eyebrow: "You, indeed, have that right, but it apparently interests you. Your eyes betray you, sir. What keeps you from booting me out, may I ask?"

"I have a personal score to settle with Mr. Stephan-Goddard. He is rude and has inconsiderate of those around him, so I shall accept it. Now, Dawson," he boomed, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically, "we must prepare. The letters will be sent in three days, so we have only two days to start our little escapade."

"I could tell you how," she remarked, as she curiously examined his chemical laboratory, tapping the spinning windmill of boots and wafting her hand over the chemical odours over her nose.

"Really, now," Basil came with a chuckle; "You come to explain the problem and also the way of solving it. You know, Dawson, detective work would be all the simpler if all our clients were equally as helpful."

"To-morrow is the servant's half-day off at Mr. Stephan-Goddard's. He'll be alone there during the afternoon."

"How did you come to know that fact?"

"I disguised myself as a maid 'keeping company,' so to speak, with his butler by the name of Deason. It was necessary to acquire the information I needed. I found out everything from him. My letters are kept in a filigree box in his desk in his study."

"I am surprise you didn't try to open the desk yourself."

"I _did_ ," she returned, with an peevish sigh, "but it is a sturdy thing with a combination lock. If it was a keyed lock, I'd be in and out in a matter of minutes; however, I have no expertise in combinations and tumblers, nor do I have the luxury of time to conduct it, particularly with both Stephan-Goddard and Deason within the house. I'm sure you and the Doctor will be more successful. You have the means and the knowledge."

The detective stood and graciously bowed. "We shall do our best, mam'selle."

He handed back her gloves and assisted her on applying her cape, now dried, and escorted his guest to the door, as I stood and followed.

"We shall contact you when fresh developments arise."

She paused suddenly and turned to us. Her expression of confidence changed, as she regarded us with anxiety. "Could you promise me one thing, gentlemen?"

"What might that me, miss?" I ventured. My curiosity prompted by her sudden change.

"I implore that you not open the box to read the contents within. I'm—well, they're the most... shameful writings, you understand. His letters were frightfully upsetting to me."

"Of course, we won't. You have my word on the matter."

"How can possibly I thank you?"

"Gratitude would be a little premature at this point," said Basil. "Do forgive me now, as I must take time to give your problem some thought. How am I to contact you?"

Handing her card with a quiet goodbye, the lady lifted her hood and we watched her disappear into the rain-drenched street.

With a merry bounce in this step, he rummaged his fingers through the memorabilia of the mantel-piece to retrieve his pipe and lit it. "What did you make of that, Dawson?"

"I say, what a remarkable and beautiful woman. She's as self-assured as ever, and yet appeared anxious and uneasy. It must have been difficult for her to ask for help."

"Yes, it's not in her nature to ask if she could resolve the problem herself," he laughed, puffing vigorously on his pipe, as he rolled her card playfully between his fingers. "She is too proud, Dawson, and coming here was an act of desperation."

"Do you believe she's sincere?"

"I accepted her case, did I not?" He twisted the pipe about his lips and remained silent for a minute with thoughtful glaze. "To-night, Dawson, we shall rest easy."

"And to-morrow, a touch of criminal larceny."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The "King of Bohemia," as the kingdom had practically been dissolved into Austria-Hungry, is most likely a thin disguise for another historical personage: Suggestions include Kaiser Wilhelm II, German Emperor and King of Prussia; Prince of Wales/King Edward VII of England; Ludwig II of Bavaria; Archduke Johann Salvator of Austria; Archduke Rudolf, Crown Prince of Austria; Tsar Alexander II of Russia, etc.
> 
> The infamous photograph from _A Scandal in Bohemia_ makes an interesting appearance here: The King of Bohemia made an incognito visit to Holmes in London, asking the famous detective to secure a photograph of Adler and him together, explaining that he was intended to marry Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meiningen, second daughter of the King of Scandinavia; the marriage would be threatened if his prior relationship with Adler were to come to light. He also reveals he had hired burglars to attempt to retrieve it twice, had Adler herself waylaid, and her luggage stolen, to no avail. Hiring Holmes was an act of desperation and yet Holmes, too, failed in his attempt to steal it. Nevertheless, she left a photograph of herself in its stead, which Holmes asked for as payment, and it should also be noted that he wore a sovereign coin she gave him on his watch-chain.
> 
> While the character of Irene Adler had officially appeared in only a single story, A Scandal in Bohemia, she was mentioned _A Case of Identity_ , _The Five Orange Pips_ (which is technically "misdated" a year before _Scandal_ ), _The Blue Carbuncle_ and _His Last Bow_. Holmes kept her "memory" alive. Eve Titus' version of Irene Adler, named Irene Relda ("Adler" spelt backwards), appeared in _BASIL AND THE LOST COLONY_ , _BASIL IN MEXICO_ , and _BASIL IN THE WILD WEST_.
> 
> There's been a lot of confusion why Relda is addressed as "Mademoiselle" (or the shorten "Mlle."), despite being an American, and the short answer is because Eve Titus addressed her as such in the _BASIL OF BAKER STREET_ series. The long answer: It's a common practice for actresses, particularly opera singers, to be referred to as "Mademoiselle," especially if they capitulated into fame in a foreign country, and it also gives the star a more "exotic" reputation. To further exemplify this, my character of Irene Relda is French-American Jew; her parents were French (and Belgian), whom are extraordinary characters themselves, that immigrated to America and settled in New Jersey. The surname "Relda" is Teutonic French and it is historically a Jewish forename/surname. (The surname "Adler" is German and is historically Jewish, too. In fact, her biography was sandwiched with a Hebrew rabbi and a staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep-sea fishes within Holmes' index.) It's interesting to note that anti-Jewish pogoms terrorized Germany, Austria, Poland, Russia, and other "Bohemian" territories for years. (1881-1884 pogoms were triggered by the assassination of Tsar Alexander II of Russia, as Jews were blamed, resulting in the murder-rape of thousands.)
> 
> "Castling Queenside" (or "castling long") is special chess move where, once during a game, a queen and rook move simultaneously in order to put the queen in a safer, or a more advantageous, position. Castling is the only time where two pieces move during a single move turn, and it is the only move, aside from the knight's move, where a piece can be said to "jump over" another.


	5. Absolute Pin

My friend, a master of disguises, did not merely change his costume, but his manner, his expression, his very soul, seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, as science lost an acute reasoner, when Basil of Baker Street became a specialist in crime.

It was the following morning when the detective badgered me away from my breakfast to attire in an ill-fitted costume, then affixed me at his vanity, irritably humming an aria, as he slapped on cold cream and powder upon my face.

"Voilà!" cried he, triumphantly, before dropping a flat-brimmed hat atop and jostling me out of the seat, then he began to paint himself up with grease and gum.

Gazing upon my reflection within the glass with astonishment, he had sculpted my face with his deft hands by waxing down my moustache as if it never existed and gluing down scruffy side-whiskers, which curved down to my chin, with brows to match, into the guise of an elderly school-master.

My friend soon spun around his chair and I tried to control my amusement at his appearance. He, too, affixed grey side-whiskers upon his cheeks, bristled up his eyebrows, with a pair of wire speckles on the brim of his nose, summing it all as a comical-looking Nonconformist clergyman.

"How come I can't wear those?" asked I, pointing to his crooked false teeth.

"I leek teese teefs," grinned he, with a whistling lisp between his crooked dentures. "Now, Dawson, you understand everything I explained?"

"Of course, I have everything in my pockets."

"Then let us commence with our bit of intrigue."

It was a quarter past twelve when we left Baker Street through the back door. As he hurried underneath the solitary plane tree, which graced the yard behind our house, he gave a most searching glance to right and left and, at every subsequent street corner, he took the utmost pains to assure that we were not followed. Our route was certainly a singular one. Basil's knowledge of the by-ways of London was extraordinary and, on this occasion, he passed rapidly through a network of mews and stables, the very existence of which I had never known, with an assured step. It was not long when we stood before a numbered line of bright, dun-coloured houses.

Without hesitation, Basil pounded at one of the doors and there stood our prey in the aperture. He had a huge frame, his head almost brushed the crossbar of the doorway and his breadth seemed to span it across from side to side, with his deep-set, bile-shot eyes under a pair of thick spectacles and the high, thin fleshless nose, below a huge, grizzled moustache, gave him an appearance of a fearsome bird.

"Mr. Stephan-Goddard, sir?" said Basil, who instantly fell into the role of a sweet and frail cleric.

The door slammed.

We glanced at each with the same puzzled expression. Basil pounded the door again and it opened.

"My name is Reverend Ersatz and this is Dr. Doppler."

"A pleasure, sir," added I, with a thick Scottish accent. "I've heard a great deal about you."

The door slammed again.

"If we could have a moment with you," Basil hollered, closely affront the door, "I could explain our mission?"

Silence.

"We are raising a subscription list, sir," he continued, loudly, "for a children's charity hospital! You are a prominent resident here and we thought you might like to donate for our noble cause!"

"Aye, it's a fine cause, sir!" I shouted. "I'm offering my educational services three days a week, and the Reverend here is donating his services, too! Do think of the children, sir, whom are intricate our great future!"

Again, silence.

"All your neighbors have contributed to the cause, sir! We just came from Baker Street, two of the residents there are most generous! Sir? Sir...?!"

The door opened and Stephan-Goddard demanded, disdainfully: "Which residents of Baker Street?"

"Mr. Basil and a Dr. Dawson," I answered. "They gave us cheques of five guineas each."

Stephan-Goddard clenched his fists as a frown crossed his face. "They gave you ten guineas, did they?"

"Oh, yes," Basil continued, grinning with his false teeth. "Very kind and generous gentlemen, Mr. Basil and the Doctor."

"We were proposing to name a ward in the hospital after them," I added, with a defiant nod.

Stephan-Goddard's lips curled disdainfully. "Is this list of subscribers going to be published in the paper?"

"Oh, yes, indeed, sir. _The Globe_ , _Pall Mall_ , _Star_ , _Echo_ —.”

"I'll give you twenty guineas!"

We both heaved a gasp and stared in a mock amazement.

"Oh, thank you, sir!" awed I, smiling my utmost in persiflage. "Most magnanimous of you, sir!"

"Come into the study, gentlemen," snorted he, with a pretentious air.

As we followed his massive figure into the lion's den of a study, I could not help but move clumsily around the bric-à-brac, for the small room was garishly filled to the brim with Grecian Apollos and Renaissance Adonises. The walls hung the decadent portraits of a martyred St. Sebastian, his body, bound and bare, mutilated by multiple arrows, and a garlanded Emperor Elagabalus attempting to drown his bacchanal with a shower of rose petals, accompanied by a marble pair of the Trojan warriors Achilles and Patroclus at war that sat upon an orate table, alongside a helmeted bust of Alexander of Macedon.

"I'd offer you a seat, but you two shan't be here long."

"Oh, that's quite fine, sir," Basil twisted a smile at him. "Thank you."

Our quarry sat at his opulent secretarial desk, his back to us. As he unlocked his massive roll-top and retrieved his cheque-book, Basil raised his two fingers in the signal and I reached into my pockets for my hidden items, moving quietly behind him, with my arm poised.

"Gentlemen, whom do I make this cheque payable to?"

Before an answer was forthcoming, I was upon Stephan-Goddard, having poured the chloroform from a small vial into my handkerchief. He struggled for a moment, his huge frame rising from the chair, lifting me effortlessly from the ground and dragging me with him, frantically kicking the empty air with my feet, but Basil held him steady with his hands. Soon, his shoulders slumped forward and the entire body, with me atop of him, went limp and tottered flat to the floor with a clamorous thud, as the chloroform took effect.

"Very neat, Doctor," said Basil, a grin crossing his face.

The detective seemed to take no notice, as I checked his pulse. He merely stepped over the unconscious figure and busied himself searching the drawers and compartments of the desk for the item in question. He chuckled victoriously, his eyes gleaming with an almost maniacal zeal, as his long fingers lifted the ornate box from its hiding place. It was decorated with tarnished filigree of a dull, discoloured metal, depicting a Hellenistic pastoral of twisting ivy and figures of warrior soldiers. Then Basil's thumb slid to the latch and went to open the lid. But I regained my feet and swiftly shut it, slapping his hand away.

"Don't open it!" hissed I. "We promised we wouldn't!"

"But I just wish to make sure that—!"

However, Basil's reply was cut short by another voice that spoke from somewhere in the room:

"To make sure _what_ was there, Basil of Baker Street?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock Holmes did occasionally commit or try to commit burglaries for clients, egotistically commenting that "It is fortunate for this community that I am not a criminal" in _Bruce-Partington Plans_ , yet it's amusing that the running gags of Holmes is that he is actually a rather _horrible_ thief! He burglarized home of the titular Charles Augustus Milverton, the King of Blackmailers, successfully burning his blackmailing documents, yet left behind blood (from his cut finger), footprints, and Watson's shoe! During the _Illustrious Client_ , he succeed in stealing the "lust diary" of Baron Adelbert Gruner, but not after getting caught red-handed, and was also unable to prevent the villain from getting vitriol acid thrown in his face; the only reason why Holmes didn't go to prison is because his client pulled strings to prevent it (possibly the Prince of Wales/King Edward VII of England). When he discovered the location of Irene Adler's photograph in _Scandal in Bohemia_ , he came back the following morning to collect it and it, of course, was gone.
> 
> The clergyman that Basil disguises himself as is a tribute to the exact same disguise Holmes used during the _Scandal of Bohemia_. The comical teeth is mostly due to the Jeremy Brett's adaptation of the story. The names "Reverend Ersatz" and "Dr. Doppler" are anagrams: "Ersatz" means "substitute/imitation" and "Doppler" means "doubled." "The Globe, Pall Mall, Star, Echo" is the names of newspapers, among the most popular in London, published in the Victorian age, and the phrase is a direct quote from Jeremy Brett's Granada _SHERLOCK HOLMES_ series in the episode, _The Blue Carbuncle_.
> 
> St. Sebastian (died circa 288 CE), the patron saint of athletes and soldiers, commonly depicted as bound to a pillar and/or tree and shot with arrows, was executed during Roman Emperor Diocletian's persecution of Christians. The Roman Emperor/Empress Elagabalus, or Heliogabalus (203-222 CE). Anglo-Dutch artist Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema's "The Roses of Heliogabalus" depicted an "incident" where she attempted to smother her unsuspecting guests during a feast to Dionysus with rose petals released from a false ceiling; this said "incident" was most likely a complete invention by the artist, as there is no historical evidence of documentation of this, due to her reputation for "eccentricity" and decadence." Achilles and Patroclus, according to Homer's legendary epic, The Iliad, were comrade-in-arms of the Trojan War; Achilles is famed for being invulnerable in all of his body except for his heel. The Greek King Alexander the Great, also known as Alexander III of Macedon (356-323 BCE), widely considered one of history's greatest military commanders, spent most of his ruling years on an unprecedented war campaign through Asia and Africa, creating one of the largest empires of the ancient world by the age of thirty that stretched from Greece to northwestern India. (I will hark back to these references, if you haven't figured them out already, to in a later chapter.)
> 
> "Absolute Pin" is a chess term where a pin is specifically made against a king, since the pinned piece cannot legally move, as moving it would expose the king to check. It is a powerful weapon since the king is now immobilised and one can pile up on it by adding more attackers.


	6. Passed Pawn

"Do not turn around, gentlemen! I have a revolver pointed at you both!"

And there I stood, with my hands hovered above my head, unable to draw a breath, at a complete loss as to what to do, and I was forced to stare at the arrow-pierced portrait of St. Sebastian upon the gaudy wall.

However, it was Basil who spoke first: "I know that voice. It's Deason, the valet."

"Very good, Mr. Basil. Deduce that all on your own?"

"Well, Deason," said I, a little huffed, "you need not brandish your weapon at us. Your master has not been harmed."

"I'm not in the least interested in that bloody codger, Doctor! If the old man was dead, I would be utterly delighted!"

The detective's false eyebrows furrowed in annoyance under his priestly guise. "Then what are you up to, Deason?"

"I'm taking advantage of situation, sir," replied the valet, pompously. "I've been trying to figure out that damnable lock of that desk for weeks. After such kindness on your part, sir, I hate to seem ungracious; but I'm dreadfully afraid I shall have to kill you. Rather, to kill the both of you two."

I heard the deep tones of the ostentatious mantel-clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour, like a death bell, and still we stood waiting helplessly for whatever might befall. The very thought of Basil and I lying dead in Stephan-Goddard's garish carpet made me cringe in disgust.

"Deason," queried Basil, finally, with an even tone, "I dislike to interrupt such a melodramatic moment; but is it necessary to kill us?"

The gunman snorted a preposterous laugh: "For months, Mr. Basil, I have been waiting for an opportunity to thieve the Philopator Emerald for myself, and now you have done it for me, sir, and presented me with a perfect alibi."

We glanced each other in confusion.

"The Philopator Emerald? Surely, you've heard of it?"

We both shrugged in indication.

"Come now, Mr. Basil, you know treasures riddle about this household as well as I do. Apart from the Emerald, there is a superb Cellini that would fetch a fine price in the right market."

"We're not after the valuables, my good fellow," said I.

"I'm not your 'good fellow,' you tottering quack! It's patronising and untrue. In any case, whether you were here after the valuables or not makes no matter to me. Let us say that I've caught you both red-handed!"

"I take it that you plan to steal the treasure and pretend that we were responsible," remarked Basil, dryly.

"Exactly, sir. I shall kill you both, secrete what objects appeal to me, and when the git regains consciousness, I shall explain that I found three ruffians burgling the house. I shot and killed two of them, while the third fled away with the loot. Whom will be able to doubt my word? I shall be regarded as a hero. I might even have my salary raised."

Basil sighed aloud in defeat: "I suppose this is the end, old fellow."

"What a sordid way to die," I blurted. "Shot in the back like a coward!"

My face wrinkled when I heard the deafening cock of the revolver behind me, squeezing my eyes shut in a disgusted rage, and held a deep breath.

"Deason?" questioned Basil, calmly. "Are we able to have last requests?"

"No."

"Well, could you at the least do us the courtesy of allowing us to face the firing squad?"

There was a silence for a few seconds.

"Very well, gentlemen, turn around — no larks mind!"

"And one last request."

"What now?"

"I am beaten and I admit it. I have crossed swords with some of the greatest criminals in Europe. Attempts on my life have been made numerous times; but I've always escaped. If this is to be my swan-song, at least give me the privilege of shaking the hand of the one who has bested me at last?"

The valet's features broadened into a sinister grin: "Well, sir, I feel that I am stepping a little out of my station; however, I suppose that situation is unusual. Didn't expect it to be done in by one of my lowly birth, eh? Well, I hope you do not object to the left hand, sir. I'll keep the revolver in my right."

"Of course."

I glanced over my shoulder helplessly as the two mice stood with shaking hands, in complete silence, with a revolver in hand aimed at the ready, and they stared at one another, without a flinch.

Suddenly, the detective twisted his body, grasping onto gunman's forearm and Basil applied leverage and Deason, taken completely by surprise, was flipped with great intensity and struck his head against the desk in a deafening knock. The impact from the manoeuvre caused the revolver to discharge, causing its corresponding bullet to whistle past and embed itself harmlessly into the plaster of the nearby wall.

"Wretched, little creature!" sneered my friend, as he dashed towards the open desk.

I examined our assailant's injuries. "His head's a bit gashed. Possible concussion; but it does not appear to be serious."

"I recommend that you learn the Japanese art of _bartitsu_ ," quipped Basil, pocketing our prize into his cassock. "It has before gotten me out of tighter situations than this. I think we'll take the precaution of closing this desk drawer. We would not want him to be exposed to further temptation when he awakens."

I tossed the fallen revolver inside the desk before Basil whirled the combination lock and shut it.

"I suppose we better leave these two where they are. After all we are burglars and we're in disguise. I do not believe these two facts could be explained satisfactorily to the police."

"Agreed, Doctor," nodded he, retreating to the back of the building, when we heard the bustle of a crowd form before the front door. "Quickly, we shall contact our client and inform her of our success." A sly grin crossed to his face, mischievously: "The game is not quite over yet."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Philopator means "father-loving" and was a common royal epithet among Hellenistic monarchs; it was the surname of Cleopatra VII of Ancient Egypt, for example.
> 
> Benvenuto Cellini was a 16th-century Italian sculptor, goldsmith/silversmith, jeweller, as well as a draftsman, soldier, musician, and writer. He was one of the most important artists of Mannerism, an art movement during the Italian High Renaissance, notable for its highly florid style and intellectual sophistication with artificial (rather than naturalistic) qualities, that is influenced by, and reacting to, the harmonious ideals associated with Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, and early Michelangelo.
> 
> Bartitsu is a mix martial arts developed in England by British engineer Edward William Barton-Wright in 1898 after living three years in the Imperial Japan. It mixes Japanese judo and jujitsu, British boxing, Swiss _schwingen_ , French savate, Greek wrestling, and fencing — and it's said to the first official mixed martial arts in history. Sherlock Holmes said he defeated Professor Moriarty at Reichenbach Falls due to his knowledge of "baritsu" (as it was incorrectly spelt by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle). I was between the spellings of "bartitsu" and "baritsu," but chose the _proper_ spelling in the end.
> 
> "Passed pawn" (or "passer") is a chess term for a pawn with no opposing pawns to prevent it from advancing to the eighth rank, or queening.


End file.
